I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear brother,

We ran into an old family friend the other day. Someone we knew as kids in Singapore randomly spotted us in London. She was nice enough to say hi to Mum and me. We talked about her job and where she lived, and she asked me the same. I avoided asking about her younger sibling because we both knew she couldn’t ask about mine.

I waited for her to mention your name. When you passed, she sent a very sweet message on Instagram about how devastated her family was. So I knew she knew and had grieved you, too. But still, I wanted her to say something about you. Just because you’ve passed doesn’t mean that you’re not still a part of our lives. A massive one at that. So even though I knew that she felt your loss, I waited for her to say your name. And when I wasn’t sure if it was going to happen, I forced it in there.

A lot of people don’t mention your name. Not because they don’t miss you or feel for us while we’re grieving, but because they’re scared. They don’t want to accidentally trigger any waterworks or make us remember how massive a loss we’ve had unnecessarily. But, no one needs to mention it for us to remember. We know and feel it all the time. So sometimes I mention your name on purpose, so they know it’s ok to say your name to us. Far more than ok.

I’ve started working. Which means new friends, colleagues and bosses. A lot of people who didn’t know me when you were around, and don’t know that I’ve lost you. But I think I’ve come to a conclusion on this. Only those who become close to me get to know you. Get to know about what you were like, how annoying you were and how hard losing you has been. It’s not something I can mention nonchalantly to people I’ve just met because it’s too hard and too close. But I think I see it as a privilege now. Only those who I think should get to know you are allowed to.

Miss you so, so much buddy. But I’m pretty sure you’re also sending me people that I will eventually get to talk to about you. So thank you.

Love you very much,
Acca